Means To An End
by godiva device
Summary: In which Hermeien wants David's assistance with the Conqueror. Our beloved Marquis thinks he has the upper hand but he soon learns that he really, really doesn't. Hermeien/David, dubcon.


**Author's note:** Urgh, I have been writing this on and off since November last year...it's my first time writing any kind of fanfiction since what, ~2007? Anyway, this has been mulling around in my head since the first time I played Last Remnant, and playing through the PC version a few months ago made me think hey, maybe I should write this down. The final product ended up a lot smuttier than I had originally planned, as well...

As an addition, I apologise in advance for any run-on sentences. I've taken to editing this and re-editing it and it's become a little like Frankenstein's monster, but I feel that if I don't publish this now then I will never get this thing off my chest. It is also UNBETA-ED, so all mistakes can be attributed to me. If you spot any glaring inaccuracies, feel free to point them out!

Thanks for reading!

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

* * *

"Well met, Marquis."

There is a smirk playing at the corners of the Duke's mouth, and a look in his eyes that David is not entirely sure he likes. It's the sort of look that says 'I know something you don't know'.

"Hermeien," he replies, feeling wary but comfortable enough in himself to get away with ignoring the title. After all, he's got the upper hand here. Hermeien had requested his assistance in this whole Conqueror business personally.

And, well. If David can manage to get the support of the Chairman of the Congress in his bid for independence, it's a bonus.

Hermeien leans forward slightly, expression unnervingly akin to that of a scientist examining a particularly interesting specimen. David is on edge, but that's par for the course for any encounter with the Chairman.

"Well then, if we can begin? I'm sure you're aware of the...situation arising, with this man who calls himself the Conqueror..."

* * *

"Wait."

David freezes, on the cusp of leaving the chamber. Their discussion had, up until then, been cordial and to the point. David had offered to assist Hermeien in any way he could, in exchange for him supporting Athlum's independence. He curses inwardly; he should have known there would be a catch to Hermeien's easy acceptance.

"There is..._one _more thing." And even with his back turned, he can practically see the self-satisfied grin on Hermeien's face. "A small price to pay, really."

He turns slowly, careful to keep his face as expressionless as possible. Hermeien's smirk widens.

"And what would that be?"

The Duke reclines slightly, one hand languidly beckoning the Marquis towards him. There is a pit of dread growing in his stomach, and David has a horrible feeling that he knows where this is leading. Still, he steps forward obediently.

His stomach drops to somewhere in the region of his feet as Hermeien opens his mouth once more, this time to order everyone out. David turns, nodding imperceptibly to Torgal, who hesitates a moment more before leaving.

The door does not slam shut but the noise it makes upon closing seems to echo ominously, and in the silence of the room, David is suddenly all too aware of the sound of his heartbeat. Elevated; nervous. Not for the first time, he wonders idly if Hermeien can smell fear.

"Now, where were we..." _As if you've forgotten so soon, _David thinks. "Ah yes, Athlum's independence."

Hermeien looks away, gaze focused on the small purple flower as he twirls it between his fingers, and is hit with a flash of memory. Rush had said that they were favoured by his sister, Irina, but...no, surely not...

"You see, David Nassau, you haven't offered me much in the way of payment. I mean, it's all well and good to agree to stand against that brute, but..."

"'But'?" David echoes.

"Well, I'm sure you don't need _me_ to tell you this, but...as of this moment, you're still under the rule of Celapaleis. All I need to do have one tiny little word with Lord Qubine, and..." He lets the sentence trail off, the words unspoken but understood by both parties.

David feels a sudden surge of anger and frustration, and it is a testament to his control that he manages to stay calm and not ruin his chances of getting the Chairman's assistance.

"Then what would you have me do?"

"Oh, come now, Marquis. You're an intelligent young man, I'm sure you can think of _some_thing." Hermeien's gaze seems focused on David's mouth, and it takes all his self restraint and then some to stop himself licking his lips unconsciously. "Of course, the door is there if by chance you can't. Perhaps you could gain the support of one of the other lords," he adds, idly indicating behind the Marquis. His eyes glitter with a hidden amusement, as if he knows David will not leave. "Perhaps you could persuade Lord Qubine yourself," he murmurs.

David knows he should back down, should walk away from the Duke and his mind games and scheming for once, but something in him hesitates. He thinks of his dream, an Athlum not ruled by Celapaleis. He thinks of being able to protect his people without waiting for someone else's orders. He thinks of the young girl he had failed, and the countless other subjects who had likely suffered similar fates.

He does not think of his generals, who he already knows would surely be disappointed in him for resorting to this. He decidedly does not think of Rush, does not think of what Rush would say. He wonders not for the first time if he is getting too involved with the strange boy from Eulam.

He thinks of that small, insidious part of him that always found itself drawn to the Chairman, and focuses on that.

"I'm waiting."

Drawn out of his reverie, David pauses for a moment before finally coming to a decision and sinking to his knees.

"Very good, Marquis. We'll make something of you yet, it seems!" Hermeien laughs. David resists the urge to shiver, eyes staring intently at the marbled floor beneath him. The shadow of the Chairman falls upon him as Hermeien stands, shrugging off his robe. "Now, if you would...?"

David's mouth goes dry.

He looks up slowly, trying to hide the embarrassment he feels over his inexperience. He tells himself that of course he would be inexperienced in..._these_ matters, but it doesn't quell the feeling that he is being judged on it. "I..."

"You...?" Hermeien prompts with a smug grin.

"I don't precisely...know..." he trails off.

Hermeien laughs again, and David feels his face grow hot with embarrassment. "I expected as much. But not to worry. I am nothing if not a patient teacher."

His hand slides into his hair and down to the nape of his neck, fingers stroking the sensitive skin there. David shudders and finds himself leaning forward involuntarily. Aware of what Hermeien expects from him, he places his hands on the Duke's knees, congratulating himself on keeping them steady.

The hand on his neck moves to his chin, tilting his head up. Hermeien looks down at him, his expression unreadable. David feels his breath catch in his throat. He can't deny that a part of him feels a sense of anticipation, and it is more than likely the same part that finds Hermeien's undeniable charisma so appealing.

"Open your mouth." A command rather than a statement, and David obeys, eyes closing as the blood rises in his cheeks.

He hears the rustle of cloth as Hermeien unbuttons his slacks, feels a finger tap the underside of his jaw, but that's the only warning he gets before he feels hard flesh against his lips.

Without sight, David finds it somewhat easier to perform this task. He works on instinct, basing his actions on what he has heard the soldiers speak of late at night, often when they believed him to be out of earshot. He begins by swiping his tongue across the head, but pulls back with a grimace at the taste of precum.

Hermeien laughs slightly and allows David a slight reprieve before pulling his head forward, pushing himself further into the Marquis' mouth until his cock is completely engulfed in that wet heat.

"Mind your teeth," he warns, almost as an afterthought. He doubts David is stupid enough to bite down on purpose, not here at least, but a warning can't hurt. "Use your tongue."

David makes a small, indecipherable noise at the back of his throat. He runs his tongue along the underside of the shaft, tasting skin and sweat and perfumed oils. Hermeien's hand returns to his hair, tugging at the strands, adding to the arousal David already feels.

Hermeien is silent throughout, his breathing as steady as it always is, and the only indicator of what works and what doesn't is the hand fisting his hair. David finds that swallowing around the mouthful of flesh works well enough to cause him to lose a few strands of hair, but pressing his tongue against the slit does next to nothing.

He doesn't realise his knees have spread apart until he feels the hard press of Hermeien's boot against his crotch. The slight stimulation is enough to cause David to groan deeply, which earns him a sharp intake of breath from the Chairman.

Hermeien's foot presses harder, and David groans again, rolling his hips. He finds himself too aroused to feel shame at his actions, and doubts that Hermeien will ever use this against him, not unless he wants to incriminate himself as well.

The Chairman pulls himself away from the other's mouth, retreating back to his throne. David moans at the loss, eyes flickering open.

"Strip," Hermeien commands, still as composed as ever.

David feels his breath catch in his throat., but obliges. Rising to his feet, he begins to methodically remove and fold his garments, not bothering to hide his trembling this time. Hermeien procures a bottle of oil from somewhere, possibly one of the many pockets in his robes, and presents it to David.

"Prepare yourself."

David feels his heart pounding a drum beat against his ribs. He would have to be a fool not to know what was coming next. Still, he falls to his knees again, unscrewing the cap on the small bottle and pouring a generous amount onto his fingers. He stares at the slick digits for a moment, unsure of how, exactly, this will work. He looks up, catching a glimpse of Hermeien, lounging in his throne, still exposed, and looks back down. Takes a deep breath and leans forward as his hand reaches back.

He rubs a finger against his entrance, willing himself to relax before pushing it inside. His breath hitches; the slight burn of pain is not enough to dampen his arousal, not when coupled with the slick sensation of the finger inside of him. He draws it out before thrusting back in with a gasp, and then again, hips rocking in time with his thrusts. Before long he presses another finger inside, eyes closing once more. This at least is something he is familiar with; the stresses accompanying his position often requiring unconventional methods of relief. This was one such way he had found to relieve tension, though performing for an audience is something rather more unfamiliar.

With his eyes closed, he can almost imagine he is back home in Athlum, alone but for his thoughts. The silence of the chamber is soon filled with breathy moans and cries of pleasure as David edges closer to climax.

His free hand moves towards his neglected cock when he hears the demand ring loud and clear throughout the room.

"Stop."

He freezes, eyes snapping open. Had he really lost control like that, in front of Hermeien? The lust coiling inside all but vanishes, leaving him feeling cold. Hermeien reaches forwards, gloved hand grasping David's wrist and pulling him up so the Marquis is straddling his lap. He adjusts himself so his erection presses against David's entrance, but no further.

"Down."

David obeys, skin glistening with sweat as he forces his hips down, impaling himself on the Chairman's cock. Every centimetre brings out an unintelligible groan of pleasure, enough to rekindle his arousal, and when he finally bottoms out he collapses against Hermeien's chest, head lolling against the older man's shoulder. He lays there for a moment or two, in a state of far too much bliss to move, before a pair of strong hands grip David's hips tightly, raising him up a couple of inches before slamming him back down. He mouths a silent cry against soft cloth as Hermeien repeats the action, the friction igniting every nerve in his body. He digs his fingers into Hermeien's shoulders, hard enough to bruise, but finds himself unable to care.

David doesn't know how long this goes on for, mind unable to focus amidst a haze of lust, before the sensations eventually become too much and he sobs out his climax, shaking uncontrollably as Hermeien's thrusts quicken, become more erratic themselves.

For all the noise David makes, Hermeien is silence personified, the only indication of his own orgasm being a soft exhalation and the stilling of his movements.

It takes a minute for David to find the strength to rise, legs still shaking, and he knows he will have trouble walking for the next few days. He begins to dress himself once more, casting a sly glance in the direction of the man before him, still wearing that insufferably smug smile.

David clears his throat, trying to will the red from his cheeks. "I trust I will have your support in this matter, my Lord?"

Hermeien gives him a once-over, looking incredibly satisfied with himself. "Indeed, Marquis. I believe this discussion has been most...productive, don't you?"

David hides a smile of his own. "Yes, my Lord."


End file.
